jon fluff
by a desert rose
Summary: jon fluff with OC


1"If I'm going down, you're going down with me, you little bitch," he snarled. He pulled a small vial out of his belt and raised his arm over his head.

Danica felt her heart drop down to her stomach. "No, don't!" But the bandit had already slammed the vial against the cliff.

At first, Danica was sure nothing had happened. The vial exploded in a small burst of gray flames and plumes of smoke, but the cliff appeared unmoved. She let out a sigh of relief, just as a tell-tale groaning sound came from the rock beneath her feet, and Danica braced herself for a long fall.

She did not scream, and was instead only aware of herself crashing through a thorny bush that had been growing from the side of cliff. She bounced off a ledge, only to fall through more foliage. How long she fell she did not know, although the impact came quickly enough.

With a loud grunt, she felt her back collide with packed earth, her head following with a loud thud, filling Danica's very existence with a white-hot sensation, and then, darkness.

Was she dead? No, this hurt far too much for death. She felt a cool sensation against her cheek. Danica opened her eyes, blinking rapidly against the blinding light of the day. Zenith let out a small woof and continued to bathe her cheek.

"Hey, I think she's awake!" Someone called out to the distance. Squinting, Danica could make out of the forms of a large cluster of men surrounding her. She could not see any of the faces.

"Danica, can you here me?" The closest voice murmured. She recognized that voice. It was Zach. He leaned in close, examining her face. She could see his pale brows knitted in worry and his mouth set in a firm line. He pressed two finger against her pulse in her wrist. "Dani?"

That was his childhood nickname for her, usually left for when they were alone together. Now he used it in a state of urgency.

"I'm awake," Danica mumbled around a dry mouth and what felt like an enormous tongue.

The relief on Zach's face was evident. "Thank the gods," he murmured. "Can you stand?"

Less than an hour later, she found herself perched on stool in the Captain's tent, sipping on a steaming mug of coffee as Zach stood on her left, while Jon debriefed her."We caught all the bandits but the one that you went after. He died in the fall." Danica grimaced.

"It's a miracle that you're still alive and well, milady, something which we are all very greatful for." This was Perdy, his usual pompous and syrupy sweet-self

Jon nodded. "As you've already noticed, those thorns did a number on you, and I think it would be best to have those treated before they had a chance to become infected."

Danica nodded and stood, shedding the blanket that had been wrapped about her slender frame. "Who do I report to?"

Jon cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I think I can help you."

Danica shrugged. "Alright. Where to?"

Jon frowned as he slowly eased up the back of Danica's shirt. "How bad is it," she asked. A sharp and sympathetic intake of breath was enough.

"That bad?"

"I'm afraid so. Unfortunately, so wounds go clear up your shoulders, so I think that it would be best for both of our modesties if we awaited the arrival of the healer so that–"

"If you need to take my shirt of, go ahead." This immediately stilled Jonathan's ranting and widened his eyes, leaving Danica to a hasty explanation. "I _highly_ doubt that you haven't seen a woman without a shirt on before, and I have both a breast band and no sense of shame."

Jon nodded in response and eased the shredded blouse up Danica's back until it was off. Danica was right, he had indeed seen woman without a shirt, and of course, much less than that as well, but none of the women he had ever seen had a tattoo on their back stretching from one shoulder blade to the next.

In-between her shoulder was the body of a raven, its beak open in a silent cry, its yellow eyes wide and its tail flared. The wings went over both shoulder blades, ending in a flurry of plumage and pinions. Danica seemed to sense what he was gaping at because she then said, "I trust you won't tell my father about it? I don't think he'd be too pleased."

"Of course not," Jon murmured. He unscrewed the lid of the balm, and began to smooth it sickly green liquid onto the numerous scrapes and cuts that Danica had acquired. There were several deeper cuts, requiring his to add more of the balm. There was occasional hisses of pain, tempting Jon to stop. He himself was no stranger to the burning of the balm, or its remedial effects. He knew it was necessary, no matter how much it pained him to hurt one so beautiful.

For whatever reason, he found himself avoiding the sctraches on the body of the raven. One of the worst of her cuts ran from the corner of the bird's yellow eye to the small of Danica's back. He could feel the warmth eminating from her body, and felt the small rise and fall of her breath beneath his skillful hands.

He vaguely wondered how it would be to have her return his loving caresses on his face, his back, his stomach...

He found that he was running her hand over her skin long after the balm had finished. The placed his hand palm down upon the head of the raven and let it rest there for several moments too long. Reality struck him, and he pulled his hand back as if she were a thing of hell. Would she be offended?

"Do you have to stop?" She murmured. "You hands are so warm."

"Not if you don't want me to."

He began to knead her shoulders, carefull of her scrapes and she leaned into his touch. "Where'd you get it?"

"Get what?"

"The bird."

He felt her smile. "It's my mother's family crest. She comes from The House of the Raven's in Maren. She had one too, much smaller on her shoulder. My grandmother, great-granmother– they all had them. I just got mine much bigger."

"Why wouldn't your father like it?" Jon asked.

"Tattoos are considered to be roguish and commonplace here. Only the lower class seem to get them. Same with more than one piercing." Jon counted three piercing on one earlobe, three on the other plus a diamond stud in the cartilage. "I suppose I'll have to take them out when we go to Corus. But the Maren, tattoo's and piercings are, a show of culture. The quality and image of the tattoo show rank, not whether or not you have one."

"He Bahzir boys get tattoos once they have been initiated into manhood," Jon said thoughfully, his fingers tracing intricate patterns on her bare skin.

"Captain!" The pair sprang apart like panicked rabbits, and Danica quickly pulled her shirt back on just as a soldier came crashing through the flap of the tent. "Captain, Milady, be beggin' your pardons but the lord has returned, and he don't be lookin' like a bottle of sunshine."

Jon nodded. "Thank you Remis. Danica?" He turned to her and bowed. "If you'll excuse me?" Without waiting from a response, he swept from the tent to answer to her father's biddings.

------------

"Shit."

Danica ran her hands through her blond mane and muttered her thoughts again. "Shit."

"Did you say something milady?"

Danica turned to her lady-in-waiting. "Why does one have sex? It just makes things so damn complicated."

Amalie looked completely taken aback. Perhaps Danica had been too direct, or perhaps she should have spoken to someone less flighty. "Well...er...its how we have children. And if two people really love each other...I suppose that would be making love, not sex."

"And what if your drunk?"

"Well, as long as your not married and don't become pregnant, and I suppose if you don't mind the value of your marriage contract to lessen, then there really isn't any problem with it."

Danica sighed. "Yes, well, I'm not pregnant, thank the gods. And hopefully he'll know I didn't mean anything by it. I don't think he did either." She massaged her temples. "Ah well. Can't be helped I suppose."

"Who milady?"

Danica smiled thinly. "Pahan Briar."

Amalie's eyes nearly doubled in size. "Oh, he's a handsome one, that boy is."

Danica grinned. "Oh I assure you, he's no boy."

"And what is the lady suggesting?"

"That my gown will need mending if I'm to wear it to tonight's dinner."

Amalie, sensing the arupt end to the discussion, averted her eyes. "And what gown will the lady be donning this evening?"

"Oh, anything will do. Apparently, the fort will be entertaining the Prince at dinner."

"Oh! Then perhaps you'll be wearing your green gown?"

Danica made a face. "That's so formal though!"

"And what better tine to dress formally than in the presence of your Prince?"


End file.
